Lion passant guardant vs. leopard in Medieval heraldry and symbolism

In researching my graduate thesis on the uses of the Arthurian legend by Edward I and Edward III (I can’t rightfully say it’s about Edward II’s use of the legend because he failed to do so), I’m doing some research regarding heraldry, since it’s so intimately linked to symbolism, chivalry, and medieval noble identity.  There was a problem tugging at the back of my brain for several weeks now, regarding leopard symbolism in the case of both men.

Now, my research had shown that when Edward I was referred to as the leopard when he was young and a pain in everyone’s ass (often especially in his father’s ass), it was a bad thing.  And yet much later, when his grandson Edward III was called the leopard, it was a good thing.  So why the dichotomy?  How did the image of the leopard shift?  Turns out that there’s a pretty simple answer.

The following is from my scribbles for my thesis:

The heraldric device of the leopard was an accepted symbol of the English crown by the age of Edward III.  The heraldric leopard, however, should not be confused with the actual animal: a heraldric leopard was a lion.  The “leopard” device, a lion passant or lion passant guardant, is in fact a form of lion, shortened to leopard from leo pardes and is referred to by the French as a leopard.  The image of the leoprard is thus a sticky problem.  Beastiaries painted the leopard in a negative light–thus it was a grave invictive when Edward I was called the leopard in his youth–but with the rise fo chivalry and the increase in the importance of heraldry, the image of the leopard, in these cases a reference to the lion passant guardant, began to shift and take on a mmore positive connotation.  The English “leopard” is thus a lion, a strong symbol of royal authority as the king of beasts.

So, if sources such as Caroline Shenton’s article in Heraldry, Pageantry and Social Display in Medieval England (eds. Peter Coss and Maurice Keen) are to be believed…heraldry played a large part in forming positive images of monarchs, at least in the minds of their own people.  It’s an interesting thing to note, however, that the very people that the English were fighting throughout the reign of Edward III are the ones that insist that the lion passant guardant is in fact a leopard, not a lion.

Interesting indeed…considering that the leopard was a symbol of the Antichrist.[1]  Who would have thought that, huh?  Very interesting indeed….


1. Caroline Shenton, “Edward III and the Symbol of the Leopard” in Heraldry, Pageantry and Social Display in Medieval England, Peter Coss and Maurice Keen, eds. (Woodbridge, Suffolk: The Boydell Press, 2002), p. 73.

Latin Phrase of the Day #9

Another heading today, this one from the Chronicon Anoymi Cantuariensis.  You know what that means…more medieval Latin.

Bulla Papae missa Principi Walliae

Bulla – noun; [Papal] Bull

Papae – noun; Pope

missa (mitto, mittere, misi, missus) – verb; send, throw, hurl, cast, let out, release, dismiss, disregard

Principi – noun; leader, chief

Walliae – proper noun; Wales

A papal bull had been released by the pope about the leader of Wales.

Very simple, not too taxing…which means I probably got it wrong.  Which would be me all over.

Latin Phrase of the Day #8

Today’s phrase is actually an inscription on an image from the Luttrel Psalter (British Library Add. MS 42130, folio 202v), a manuscript from the British Library.  I came across it in Peter Coss and Maurice Keen’s collection of essays, Heraldry, Pageantry and Social Display in Medieval England.  So, again, what we’re looking at is some medieval Latin.

Gloria patri Dominus Galfridus louterell me fieri fecit.

Gloria – noun; glory, fame, ambition, renown, vainglory, boasting

patri – noun; father

Gloria patri – Glory to the father

Dominus Galfridus louterell – Lord Geoffrey Luttrel

me – I, me, myself

fieri (fio, feri, factus sum) – verb; to be made, come into existence, to come about ~ this is a passive participle

fecit (facio, facere, feci, factus) – verb; make/build/construct/create/cause/do, have built/made, fashion, work (metal), act/take action/be active; act/work (things), function, be efective, produce, produce by growth, bring forth (young), create, bring into existence, compose/write, classify, provide, do/perfom, commit crime, suppose/imagine

fieri fecit – caused to be made/born/ect ect

Glory to the father who caused Sir Geoffrey Luttrel, myself, to be born.

And now it is time to deadhead the roses before I can get back to work.

Latin Phrase of the Day #7

Today’s selection is from Robert of Avesbury’s De Gestis Edwardi Tertii (The Wars of Edward the Third).

Item, dominus Edwardus tertius a conquaestu, apud Tourneye, ut praemittitur, treugis captis, in Flandrian est reversus.

Item – adv; likewise, besides, also, similarly

dominus – noun; lord

Edwardus tertius – Edward the third

a (a, ab) – ablative prep.; by, from, after

conquaestu – forcibly/violently gain

a conquaestu – gained by force; by conquest

apud – acc. prep.; at, by, near, among, at the house of, before, in the presence/writings/view of

Tourneye – Tournai

apud Tourneye – near Tournai

ut – conj.; to (when with the subjunctive), in order that/to, how, as, when, while, even if

praemittitur (praemitto, praemittere, praemisi, praemissus) – verb, prsent passive indicative; sent ahead or forward
 – he/it was sending ahead

treugis – pledge?, surrendered/under armistice

captis – adj.; captive

treugis captis – captive under armistice?

in – prep.; Ablative: in, on, at (space), in accordance with/regard to/the case of, within (time); Accusative: into, about, in the midst of, according to, after (manner), for, to, among

Flandrian – Flanders

est – he/she/it is

reversus – verb; turn around, return

reversus est (revertor, reverti, reversus sum) – verb, pluperfect tense; he returned, he turned back, he went back
treugis is the word that did not want to be translated this morning.  It took me almost 45 minutes to find the term anywhere, and in the end I found it in a French lexicon of Latin words.  Go figure.

Likewise, while the lord Edward III was sending ahead the captives under armistice gained by force near Tournai, he returned to Flanders.

Now, this translation is probably very bad and very wrong…but I had to attempt it and I had to throw it up here.

Latin Phrase of the Day #6

So, I missed yesterday for various reasons (including a popped bike tire on the way to work and then staying an extra 45 minutes at work) but it’s time to get back on track.  Today’s phrase is from the Vindolanda tablets.Map of Hadrian's wall vs. the Antonine Wall  For those that aren’t aware, the Vindolanda tablets were found near Hadrian’s Wall in northern Britain.  They are the records, it seems, of a Roman outpost there, at the edge of the empire, dating to roughly 100AD.

habeas cui des commeatum Córis Messicus rógo domine

Let’s break it down.

habeas (habeo, habere, habui, habitus) – verb; have, hold, consider, think, reason, manage, keep, spend/pass (time)

cui – pronoun; who, that, what, of which kind/degree, person/thing/time/point that, who/whatever, everyone who, all that, anything that, any, anyone/anything, any such, unspecified some

des (do, dare, dedi, datus) – verb; give, dedicate, sell, pay, grant/bestow/impart/offer/lend, allow, make, surrender/give over, send to die, ascribe/attribute, give birth/produce, utter

commeatum – noun (acc.); supplies/provisions, goods, voyage, passage, convoy/caravan, furlough/leave

Córis – proper noun

Messicus – proper noun

rógo (rogo, rogare, rogavi, rogatus) – verb; ask, ask for, invite, introduce

domine – owner, lord, the Lord, also a title

My lord I ask you to consider giving to this one Messicus furlough to Córis.

The official translation I have seen for this same section is a bit more…flowery, I guess, than mine (and probably better to be honest, since I’m still so bad at this).

I, Messicus, ask my lord that you consider me a worthy person to whom to grant leave at Coria.

This is probably due to my failure at the subjunctive, which always made me want to hurt myself a lot.  Stupid subjunctive.

Translation (and the tablet fragment) is from Life and Letters on the Roman Frontier by Alan K. Bowman.

Latin Phrase of the Day #5

Today’s quotation is drawn from Classical Latin repeated in a medieval source.  It is from Virgil, as quoted in Gerald of Wales’ Description of Wales.

Tales casus Cassandra canebat.

Tales – adj.; such, so great, so excellent, of such kind

casus – noun, accusitive case (direct object); fall, overthrow, chance/fortune, accident, emergency, calamity, plight, fate

Cassandra – the tragic Seer and former lover of Apollo, Cassandra, who was of Troy

canebat (cano, canere, cani, canitus) – verb; sing, celebrate, chant, crow, recite, play music, sound horn/instrument, foretell

Cassandra was singing of the great calamity.

Clearly, this refers to Virgil’s Aeneaid; it’s from the section on the fall of Troy.

Vignette – “The tragic tale of Ghaund and Amarestine”

This little vignette is a roughed out legend for my 3.x D&D/Pathfinder/Swashbuckling Adventures game in the original world Maraeternum.  The story is meant to explain (in part) the development of a certain type of nasty thing in the world (amongst others, I suppose…).

The tragic tale of Ghaund and Amarestine

            Once upon a time, in the uncounted centuries before the fall of the Basilica del Mare, on the shore of a great island lived the sorcerer Ghaund.  He once had been a great man, though as he grew in powers arcane, he had forgotten how to care for other living things.  His beloved lady, the prophetess Amarestine, had foreseen this and left when she could bear his growing coldness no longer, retreating to a cave at the far end of the fair isle that had been their home through all of their years.
            Ghaund came to be beside himself with pain at the loss of his beloved Amarestine and begged for her to return.  She refused him sadly, warning that she could not love a man who had forgotten how to care.
            “But you are the light of my heart, my reason for breathing!”  Ghaund protested.
            “Would that you remembered the emotions that could birth those words, my love,” replied Amarestine, for she could see in his eyes that there was no love there, only the pale memory of real feeling.  “I can only return when you have remembered how to love me and all others, as you once did.”
            And so she left him on the walls surrounding the tower they had once shared and retreated to the far end of the isle, through the villages there, over streams and across the woodlands, and abided in a cave on the shore.
            Ghaund fretted and seethed, thought and plotted, consumed by his inexplicable need to have his lady returned to him.  Though he could not remember how to feel, he knew at his core that he needed her at his side, though he knew not why.  Nothing would stop him in his quest to return her to him—not even Amarestine herself.
            For a time, he sought to remember how to feel, though her words made no sense to him.  He could cut himself, and he would bleed, and it would hurt, though it would heal in time.  He felt no pleasure from the healing, only the pain of the cut.  He felt no gladness when he gazed upon her portrait, only sadness eating away at his soul.  There was no reason to feel, no reason to care.  There was no joy in giving to others, only loss.  His heart grew cold, his heart grew hard, and all he knew was that his magic soothed the only things left he could feel—pain for the loss of his lady, ambition for the power to retrieve her, and anger for his inability to have her as he wished.
            And so he began to plot, to work, to scheme.  He read a thousand books, wrote to a thousand scholars, spent a thousand sleepless nights at work to find a way to bring her back to him until he finally found a way.
            He had created from kelp and ambergris, gelatin and water, magic and alchemy, creatures malleable and yet man-formed.  He shaped them, he honed them, and he imbued them with powerful magics and even more powerful compulsions.  These creatures—his great triumph among triumphs—would surely be able to return his Amarestine to him!  And so he sent them forth, oozing, slipping, running across rocks and cobbles, through woods and water, until they reached the cave in which Amarestine made her abode.
            The prophetess was not startled to see these strange creatures, man but not, liquid yet solid.
            “O Ghaund!”  She despaired.  “Oh, my love, what have you done?”
            The creatures fell upon her then and carried her back to their master, who felt no joy at the return of his beloved.  He looked upon her and sighed, feeling nothing.  He touched her and though his blood raced, he knew not why, kissed her and felt light-headed, knew her and yet pleasure did not truly reach him.
            And so he kept her there, in the tower, guarded by his creations, until all the days of their lives were utterly spent, and learned nothing at all.